


By the River

by diindjariin



Series: Untitled Mando Series [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, and some events have been changed for the sake of the au, but only a little bit okay i promise, give him all the soft things, recycled dialogue, this takes place during episode 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22237336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diindjariin/pseuds/diindjariin
Summary: “Maybe. But I must admit I’m worried. I care about you, is all.” You watch the water rather than watch him. His helmet reflects back at you from the surface of the water and you realize that you are doubly removed from him, by the helmet and through reflection. The thought is dizzying, but his touch is more so. Slowly, as if he’s afraid you’ll reject his touch, Mando leans toward you and gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. It forces you to look at him rather than the water. Your breath catches. Somewhere your brain supplies the thought that, if he were any other man, without a Beskar helmet covering his face, this would be the point that you close your eyes and allow him to kiss you. You do close your eyes, then; a relaxed smile falling over your lips. You can’t kiss him, but you can imagine it.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Series: Untitled Mando Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600699
Comments: 6
Kudos: 123





	By the River

Sorgan: no star port, no industrial centers, no population density. The perfect triad for a hiding spot for you, Mando, and the Child. At least, according to Mando it is. You aren’t much versed in the art of hiding and bounty hunting, but you know he is, so you trust his instincts. So: Sorgan.

“I’m gonna go out there and I’m gonna look around,” the Mandalorian says, pulling his gloves over his hands. “do you want to come with me?”

The question throws you and you’re quiet for so long that Mando turns to face you, lifting your chin with the tip of a gloved finger.

“Is that…okay?” You ask, leaving your lips parted in confusion. Mando never asks you to explore a planet with him unless he’s been there before. He’s very particular, usually rattling off some version of Stay with the kid until I know it’s safe, then disappearing for a few hours before returning with news of a room and food. But now…now he’s asking.

“You’ll be with me,” he says simply, letting go of your chin and turning away to open the hatch. You follow mutely until you feel a tug on your dress and see the Child beneath you, one little green hand fisted in your dress, the other reaching up for you.

“Can we bring him?” You ask, knowing he’ll probably say no. I can’t watch the both of you, you imagine him saying, or if something happens to us we can put him on lockdown. But he does nothing of the sort. He pauses, hands on his hips and head cocked slightly to the left, staring at the both of you. Then he says Okay so quiet that you aren’t sure you’ve heard it or if you’re imagining things. But he turns and begins walking away so you assume you’re meant to follow, picking the Child up and following him out the door.

Trouble finds you immediately, because it’s Mando, but you figure that, if anything, an ex-shock-trooper was a good person to get into trouble with. Better than Imperial, you rationalize. Cara Dune is dangerous and stunning in the way that Mando is: she radiates power, but she looks like she’s kind where it matters. It’s hard to be scared of her when she smirks and jokes and swings an arm over your shoulder at the village. You hadn’t realized how much you missed female company until you had it, and though Cara isn’t similar to the women you kept friendships with on your home planet, she still has a feminine energy that you’d sorely missed.

“So, Mando…” Cara says, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “He your bodyguard or something?” Your washing clothes in the river, Cara kneeling beside you. You’ve been in the village for a few days, Mando and Cara deciding how best to go about taking down an AT-ST. You turn to look behind you and find him leaning against a tree, arms and ankles crossed, staring in your direction. You raise a hand and wave at him. He waves back.

“Why do you think that?” you ask with a small smile. Cara huffs.

“He hovers. And stares. Guys don’t do that unless they’re watching for something.”

“He’s just protective,” you say, which doesn’t really answer Cara’s question of what you are to each other. “I’m his… babysitter.” The sound that comes from Cara’s mouth can only be described as a laugh and a choke.

“Whatever you say,” says the ex-shock-trooper, lifting herself up from her sitting position and brushing her knees. “Ah Mando, you can have my seat.” Then she disappears.

Mando takes the spot next to you, albeit closer than Cara was sitting. You pause in your work to look at him. He’s watching you, body leaning toward you. You have his full attention.

“Babysitter, huh?” He says, moving his arms so they rest on his knees, “Is that how you’d… describe us?” His voice comes out a bit muffled, sharp. He’s speaking through a smirk, you can tell. The knowledge of that makes you smile broadly. He’s teasing you.

“I don’t really know how I would describe us,” you say sincerely, setting your washing aside and turning your body to face his. “Babysitter isn’t wrong, necessarily.” He hums in response, low in his throat. You turn from him to look at the water, watch the ripples dance. It’s peaceful, birds chirping loudly from the branches of tall trees, a light breeze drifting by. It gathers enough force to lift your hair, causing a lock to fall from behind your ear into your face. “I’m worried. About the AT-ST,” you say, and you know you’ve caught him off guard when he sucks in a sharp breath.

“I’ve handled worse,” he says but you know in your heart this isn’t true. Mando wouldn’t suggest the village pick up and move for no good reason. If the original plan was to run, then that’s because it’s the smartest choice. Thinking about him going up against something that’s been known to kill hundreds of soldiers at once is terrifying. You know he’s strong, the strongest man you’ve ever known, but you worry.

“Maybe. But I must admit I’m worried. I care about you, is all.” You watch the water rather than watch him. His helmet reflects back at you from the surface of the water and you realize that you are doubly removed from him, by the helmet and through reflection. The thought is dizzying, but his touch is more so. Slowly, as if he’s afraid you’ll reject his touch, Mando leans toward you and gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. It forces you to look at him rather than the water. Your breath catches. Somewhere your brain supplies the thought that, if he were any other man, without a Beskar helmet covering his face, this would be the point that you close your eyes and allow him to kiss you. You do close your eyes, then; a relaxed smile falling over your lips. You can’t kiss him, but you can imagine it. With closed eyes, Mando’s shoulder touching yours, you can imagine him leaning into you, hand on your waist, lips on your –

You are, quite literally, splashed out of your thoughts with cold water. Your eyes shoot open as water drips from your hair into your eyes. Mando shakes his glove, which is soaked and dripping, over the river. You squeal.

Mando chuckles, which snaps you out of your daze and gives you the courage to give him a taste of his own medicine. Something sinister must pass over your eyes because Mando begins to rise, struggling to stand after sitting for so long.

“Oh no you don’t,” you say, sticking your entire forearm in the river and practically tossing water at him. You mostly get his legs as he stumbles backward, losing his balance and landing on his ass. That makes you laugh. You’re struggling to hold your giggles in, crawling over to the dazed Mandalorian. “Are you okay?” you ask, voice filled with mirth. He doesn’t respond, which makes you crawl closer, afraid he’s hit his head. “Mando?”

He reacts faster than you could have predicted, launching himself up, grabbing ahold of your waist, and lurching you into his arms. “What are you –“ as he makes his way to the water, you know his intention. “Wait, Mando, no! I’m sorry, okay!” Though you plead and beg your voice is full of humor, of longing. It would be very inconvenient to be soaking wet right now, but there are worse things. And you don’t mind being held by him. He carries you right to the edge, practically holding you over the water while you cling to him for dear life.

“Put me down, Mando!” You shout on the tail end of a laugh.

“Down? You sure?” He loosens his grip on you a bit, bringing you close to the water. The bottom of your dress touches the water. Your arms tighten around his neck. You burry your face there, too.

“If I go, you’re coming with me,” you threaten, squeezing his neck for good measure.

“I like those odds,” he assures you. Your eyes widen at that. Would he seriously jump in this river just to get you wet?

You don’t get to find out. Cara returns at that moment, blaster in hand. She startles when she sees the state the two of you are in, dripping water and giggling. You blush.

“The villagers are ready to learn to shoot. You gonna join us?”

“Yes,” he replies statically, immediately dropping you to your feet on the riverbank. He’s all business now, rolling his shoulders and turning to you, nodding at the clothes you’d been washing. “Leave that here. I want you to practice, too.” When he talks to you like that, all authoritarian like, what choice do you have?

You beat the AT-ST. And the rival village. You’d won at a cost but won all the same. It took a few days to clean up the mess but after a week it looked as though nothing violent or exciting had ever happened. Just a regular village on a small planet in the Outer Rim.

Weeks passed. The Child fell in love with the other children, the attention. You can tell in the widening of his eyes and the perk in his ears. He was happy here. So were you. But most importantly, so was Mando. You expected Cara to bolt after taking down the AT-ST but, to your astonishment, she stays. Her presence is an added bonus in your life, not just for yourself but for Mando, too. The two get along well together; there’s a bond between them that you figure comes with being a soldier and you relish in that fact; glad he’s found someone besides you that he’s comfortable sharing with.

“So what’s with the flower?” Cara’s sitting back in a rocking chair on Omera’s porch, hands folded haphazardly over her chest. The Mandalorian stands, arms and ankles crossed, watching you play with the children.

Mando doesn’t answer, head tilting down and toward her slightly as if he were confused by the meaning of her words. Cara rolls her eyes and waves her hand in your direction.

“The girl. I get the kid, but… why the girl?” He returns to watching you, contemplating her words. You’re sitting on the ground, two children in your lap and a third next to you, playing with your hair. The Child wanders in aimless circles around you as you speak quietly to the children, a look of secrecy on your face. All at once the children’s eyes leap to the Mandalorian and giggle, immediately turning their faces into your shoulders when Mando catches them looking. You smile and laugh to yourself, looking up at the Mandalorian and smiling at him, wiggling your fingers. He doesn’t return the gesture, but he does nod his head to let you know he’s watching. “Are you two screwing or something?”

Mando jumps a little and curses, whipping his head to face Cara.

“No.” He says the words with an edge of finality, leaving no room open to pry. Cara does so anyway.

“You’re telling me you don’t want to get to know that beautiful woman in more than one way?” Cara asks, eyebrows creeping into her hairline. “Because if it were me –”

“Cara,” he says, and that makes her stop. His tone is… not warning, but it’s close. But when Cara turns to look at him, he isn’t looking back at her. He’s looking at you, and Cara can only guess the expression on his face under the Beskar helmet but she imagines that it’s longing.

“Oh,” she says, nodding her head and taking a sip of spotchka so she doesn’t have to speak, “that’s – wow, okay.”

“You can’t –” he starts to say, but Cara is already shaking her head and waving her hand at him.

“I won’t,” she promises, and the conviction in her voice holds truth. Mando figures it’s a soldier thing, falling for someone in your platoon and keeping it a secret, for the good of the rebellion. He imagines Cara’s kept a lot of secrets like his in her lifetime and knows with certainty that she won’t repeat it. “But why can’t you?” The Mandalorian sighs, slow and deep, the sound tinny when filtered through the modulator.

“My creed,” says the Mandalorian, and though it is a sufficient answer for him it is not for Cara Dune.

“What do you mean?” she asks, brows furrowed. “What happens if you take that thing off? They come after you and kill you?”

“No. You just can’t ever put it back on again.” Cara flounders, looking at the Mandalorian with a mixture of pity and awe.

“That’s it? So you can slip off the helmet, settle down with a woman you obviously care about, and raise your kid here, sipping spotchka? Why the hell not?”

The Mandalorian is silent for so long that Cara figures he isn’t going to respond, figures she’s pushed too hard and upset him. In reality, Mando plays her words over and over in his head, trying to find an answer. He watches you with the children, smiling and nodding and spinning. Your long dress sways with every movement, makes you look shorter. He knows the emotion desire, has felt it in his lifetime when looking at a dangerous woman with a blaster. When he sees you, though, he doesn’t want to fuck you, helmet digging into your shoulder, dress bunched up high on your thighs. He wants to lay you down gently on his cot, helmet long forgotten, and place gentle kisses on your collarbones. He wants to whisper naughty things in your ear, only after he’s told you how beautiful you look. He wants you to whimper and sigh and call him Din. He wants to make love to you, gently, slowly. He wants to love you. Why the hell not?

“I… wouldn’t know how,” is his response, several minutes later. It’s not the response that Cara was expecting.

“You have time,” she says, nodding at you and the Child. “You stay here, you’ve got all the time in the world. Your whole life, really.” Cara’s smile is playful, but when she turns to the Mandalorian his posture has gone stiff and his arms are crossed over his chest.

“I’m leaving,” he says quietly, so quiet that Cara almost misses it. “I don’t belong here. They do. Traveling with me, that’s not a life. That’s a sentence.” You’re standing now, wrangling the kids who are shouting Swimmy! Swimmy! As they strip their clothes and run toward the riverbank in their underwear. A male member of the village approaches you in small swim shorts, speaking quickly and excitedly. You nod and point your thumb back at the Mandalorian, which makes his shoulders and chest tighten impulsively. Cara’s eyes widen and her jaw drops slightly, but before she can comment you’re making your way over to the two of them, a spring in your step. You pull yourself up onto the porch and grab one of Mando’s hands.

“Hey,” you say sweetly, voice dripping with honey. “Come swim with me.” Refusing is one of the hardest things he’s ever done, he imagines, but he soldiers through. He shakes his head once and taps his index finger against his helmet, deflating your spirit a bit, but you don’t let go of his hand.

“Enjoy yourself,” he says softly, nods at the Child as well, “don’t let me slow you down.”

“Never,” you reply, brushing your thumb over his gloved knuckles, “I’m sure you could outswim me, even with all that metal.”

“Where you go, I’ll catch you,” he says and then recognizes the significance of his words but doesn’t take them back. He thinks how, this time tomorrow, he’ll be gone from this planet and you’ll be here with the kid, alone. He supposes he’s making himself into a liar, but even knowing that he’s leaving, he still finds the statement to be true.

Your breath catches in your throat and you blush, cheeks and ears turning a ruddy pink. You figure if you’d touch them, your face would be warmer than the heat off the Sorgan sun. Needing a distraction from Mando’s heavy gaze, you turn to Cara.

“What about you Cara? Interested in a swim?” Cara’s mouth is still ajar but once you give her your attention she snaps it closed.

“I…” she says, elongating the sound “think I’ll sit this one out. But thanks.” Her smile is tight and forced but her care for you is genuine. You smile and nod, making to step down from the porch before you make a noise of remembrance in the back of your throat.

“Mando,” you say sweetly, turning your back on him. You wrap your hair around your fist and pull it over your shoulder to expose your back. “Can you untie me, please?”

Mando turns beat red under his helmet, stares at your back for much longer than is appropriate. Cara lets out a strangled sound in the back of her throat that he’s sure is a stifled laugh. Taking a deep breath, the Mandalorian reaches shaking hands up to the ties of your dress, slowly pulling apart the knots he’d made that morning. He remembers your bare shoulders and clavicles on display, hands holding up your dress just enough to cover your breasts, shrouded as they were in your undergarments. I thought I could tie it up myself, you’d said, giggling, would you help me?

Now, you slip the fabric down your shoulders until it pools at your feet. You step out of the garment, flinging it over your shoulder. “If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be,” you say, flashing the two of them a smile before picking up the Child and following the villagers the short distance to the river. Mando watches you unabashedly, knowing you can’t tell, follows the line of your legs as they take you away from him. He catches Cara doing the same.

“You’re gonna break her heart,” Cara says, shaking her head. “Maybe your own, too.”

He eventually comes looking for you. It’s been hours, and most of the villagers have come back from the river with smiles and loose shoulders. Not you, though. Even the Child is here, playing with the other children under the watchful eye of Omera. He asks her about you and she smiles, points in the direction of the river. Where you go, I’ll catch you, he thinks as he makes his way through the forest. Then he sees you.

You’re in your underthings, like before, but now they’re wet and cling to your figure like a second skin. He can see your nipples through the fabric. Your hair is wet and slicked back due to the water. He watches you do a lap from bank to bank, completely unaware of his presence until you see him and smile.

“Mando!” you say happily, disbelief in your voice. “Come to join me?”

“Come to check on you,” he says, making his way to the bank. He sits right on the edge, legs stretched out, leans back on his haunches, “you let the kid go off alone.”

“He’s with Omera,” you say gently, “pretty safe to me. Unless you… disagree?” You’re sure his tone was calm but an apology sits on your tongue all the same. He shakes his head.

“I don’t.”

You nod at him, rest your chin on your arms, folded over the riverbank. You allow your eyes to close, exhausted from hours spent in the sun. It’s Mando’s company, really, that allows you to relax so easily, lulled into a trance by the energy his presence carries. It’s so… peaceful here; so different from what you’re used to. Your life with Mando wasn’t violent per say, but the affect Sorgan had on Mando was astonishing. His shoulders loosened more every day, he spoke to strangers more, he… put down roots. And you were setting yours, too.

“Mando?” He doesn’t respond, but his head perking up lets you know he’s listening. “I really like it here.”

“I know,” he says, and for some reason he sounds sad.

“The Child likes it here. You do too, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Could we…” you trail off, afraid that if you vocalize your desires they’ll slip through your grasp. You want so badly for him to set aside the life of a bounty hunter, to have the life you know he deserves. Bounty hunting might be the only life he knows, but maybe you can teach him something new. You reach your right hand up to grasp his forearm. “Could we stay here, do you think? You, me, the kid. You could start over, raise him. It would be… a good life. Wouldn’t it?” You’re staring into the slit of his helmet, like you always do when speaking to him, but in this moment it feels as though you can sense his eyes.

“It would,” he says, voice full of longing. He shifts his hand so that he can grasp your arm, too, both of your holding onto the other’s forearm like a promise. He wants so desperately to tell you that you can, he will. He’s wanted this for so long that the possibility of it makes him stop. He doesn’t deserve this. But you do.

And then comes the gunshot. It pierces through the air sharply, lodging itself into the water inches from your body. You yelp in surprise, not recognizing it for danger. Mando does.

He doesn’t have his blaster. It’s the first thought that runs through his mind. In the weeks of peace he’s become soft, unaccustomed to danger. He’d left it behind with Cara, not thinking he’d need it. He doesn’t think much about his course of action, the only thoughts running through his head being no weapon. He has no way to fight off the attacker. So he does the only thing that makes sense: he jumps into the river, grabs the back of your head in one hand and your hip in the other, and plunges you both into the water. You have just enough time to suck in a lungful of air before he drags you both down.

Two more bullets whiz into the water while the two of you hide, holding your breath. He’s got your body tucked into his, chests plastered together, your head under his chin. His grip is so tight it hurts, sure you’ll have finger-shaped bruises on your hip. Your lungs are burning in protest and you aren’t sure how much longer you can stay under for when Mando drags you both up for air again. His head snaps back and forth, looking for your assailant.

“Hold your breath,” he says quickly, pulling you even tighter against him as he prepares to plunge you both back into the water when Cara Dune’s voice echoes across the forest.

“Got him!” she cries. She sounds close and after a few seconds you can hear her running footsteps. “Mando? Where are you two?”

“Here!” You call and cough, lungs sore. Mando immediately looks to you sharply.

“Are you okay?” he asks, putting you at arm’s length so he can inspect you. You nod but the sensation makes you woozy. He helps lift you back into the bank but you don’t move, lying on your stomach instead. Mando lifts himself out of the water just as Cara makes her way to you.

“You guys okay?” she asks once she’s close enough. You lift yourself up on your arms and nod, still struggling a bit for breath. Mando leans down to grab your arms, helping to hoist you to your feet. You’re mostly okay, but the movement makes you woozy. You lean against him, one hand on his shoulder for support.

“Yes.” He says.

“I found this,” she says, holding up a tracking fob. The sight of it has your heart sinking. “Who’s he tracking?”

“The kid,” you say, sorrow in your voice.

“Then they know he’s here.”

“Yes,” Mando says.

That’s that, really.

The goodbyes are painful. You know you shouldn’t have, but you’d started to build a life here, on Sorgan. As you pack away your things you think of how, this time yesterday, everything was perfect. To think this hurts your heart, though, so you focus instead on the packing.

“Are you sure you don’t want an escort?” Cara asks, all smiles and gentle teasing. You know what your answer would be, but it’s up to Mando.

“I appreciate the offer,” he says, “but we’re gonna bypass the town and head right to the Razor Crest.” Cara nods.

“Well then, until our paths cross,” she says, offering him her hand.

“Until our paths cross,” he repeats, taking her hand in his. Now, Cara turns to you.

“Look out for the bucket head,” she says with a smirk, “he seems a little in over his head.”

“I will,” you say, voice so genuine that it catches you off guard. You surprise yourself even further when you grab a hold of the woman and bring her in for a hug. It’s a little rough with all her armor but soothes you all the same. “Take care of yourself, Cara.” She smiles and nods, looking a bit awkward, but pleased. Mando helps you onto the little carriage and then follows suit, sitting next to you. As it takes off and the villagers begin to wave in unison, a feeling of immense sadness begins to overtake you. You swallow thickly as your eyes begin to mist. Mando shifts and you feel his hand grab a hold of yours. You blink up at him, giving him a forced, wet smile. He squeezes your hand.

**Author's Note:**

> this is definitely my favorite mando fic in this little series of mine that i've created! it's also the longest. anyway, let me know what you think! and as always:  
> If you'd like to check out my tumblr, it's @diindjariin.  
> If you'd like, I'd appreciate it if you'd reblog the post for this fic on tumblr:  
> https://diindjariin.tumblr.com/post/190227094506/by-the-river-din-djarin-x-reader


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